


even as you know it

by bookmarksorganization



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Love Confessions, M/M, No Beta, Short One Shot, sorta love confessions, their relationship can be read as aro or allo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:00:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25162048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookmarksorganization/pseuds/bookmarksorganization
Summary: Crowley wasn’t oblivious to Aziraphale’s flaws. Far from it. He’d been on the receiving end of them far too many times. The denial, and Aziraphale’s tendency to lash out when afraid, and his cowardice—and Crowley always waited, always forgave, never faulted him for it.But, this wasn’t something they’d ever discussed. And Aziraphale needed to hear it.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 17
Kudos: 65





	even as you know it

“Crowley.”

“What?”

“What do you dislike about me?”

 _”What?”_ Crowley set down the book he’d been turning over in his hands—not really reading it so much as simply fussing with it—and sat up from where he’d been sprawled across the couch to give Aziraphale his full attention. "You’re asking… what I dislike… about you?” His words got higher towards the end of the question, and he sounded confused.

“Yes,” Aziraphale said from his chair. He’d committed to this line of questioning, and there was no turning back now.

Crowley tightened his face up in a squint that was obvious even behind the sunglasses. “Why are you asking?”

“I worry, I suppose, that my flaws which... you seem to find so delightful…” That thought wasn’t going to manage to fully form itself into words. Hmm. Best be direct. Aziraphale tried again. “I wish to know how well you understand me.”

Crowley cocked his chin to the side, clearly trying to follow but not seeming to grasp what Aziraphale meant. “Why—” His voice was gentle. “Do you want to know how well I understand you, angel?”

Because he’d been using modern internet search engines with greater frequency (Crowley’s influence), and had been _Googling_ Georges Bataille—curious about some further contextualizing information related to the portion of his published works occupying space on the shelves upstairs, and in doing so, had come across a quotation which had lodged itself firmly in his mind for the following week.

_I don't want your love unless you know I am repulsive, and love me even as you know it._

Aziraphale knew Crowley loved him. He was sure Crowley had the same certainty of Aziraphale’s devotion. They’d gone through too much, at this point, to doubt that. 

And Crowley wasn’t oblivious to Aziraphale’s flaws. Far from it. He’d been on the receiving end of them far too many times. The denial, and Aziraphale’s tendency to lash out when afraid, and his cowardice—and Crowley always waited, always forgave, never faulted him for it. 

But, this wasn’t something they’d ever discussed. And Aziraphale needed to hear it.

He tried to think of how to summarize all that. He couldn’t bring himself to just quote the line at Crowley.

Crowley leaned forward. “Okay,” he said. “I can see this is a... uh… Thing. I… like a lot of the things I don’t like about you.”

“What?”

“Like… you’re stubborn. And that’s so annoying.”

Aziraphale frowned.

“And you asked me to tell you what I don’t like about you, and now you’re looking at me like you’re offended.” Crowley had a huge grin on his face, and he sounded incredibly fond.

Aziraphale frowned more. “Yes, but, what about the things that aren’t fun? You say you don’t like when I’m stubborn, but you also find it endearing.” 

“Well, I’m used to it.”

“What else?”

Crowley was quiet, and looked away, seeming to think about it. “I don’t like—that you trusted Heaven more than you trusted me," he said softly.

That was fair. Aziraphale had, or—he’d trusted God, and hadn’t realized how different those two things were. Even when he’d kept lying to them all. He’d lied to them for millennia. 

“I’m sorry.”

Crowley looked back at him—scowled. “I’m not trying to get you to apologize,” he said, sounding offended. 

“You’re right, though. I was…” Aziraphale tried to think of the right words. He wanted to just go _‘you know,’_ because Crowley almost certainly did—but that didn’t exactly help his overall aim in having this conversation. He needed to be understood. “I was in denial. About how independently Heaven was acting from God. I thought I could make them understand. Or... say the right things to get to the right outcome.”

“Lying to Heaven,” Crowley said, radiating affection.

Aziraphale made a noise of distaste. “I don’t like that you like when I do wrong things—well, sometimes I don’t like it. Sometimes I like it. Don’t say I can’t do the wrong thing.”

Crowley held up his hands in mock surrender.

“I hurt you,” Aziraphale said, unwilling to drop the original intended subject.

Crowley nodded with some reticence—sat back. “Yes,” he said with a sigh. “But, it all worked out.”

“What else?”

“... don’t I like about you. It’s all mostly… when you didn’t trust me. Which I don’t like admitting, for the record—which is a real pattern of our relationship. Me putting myself out there.”

“I know.”

“I don’t mind it. I get it.”

“You do.” He did get it. “You did.”

“I know you, you… Aziraphale.” It had been the start of Crowley mimicking the way Aziraphale had said _'I know you, you old serpent.’_ some countless number of times. 

Aziraphale smiled.

“Fuck off,” Crowley said.

“You know me, and my raging denial and fearfulness, and cowardice, and no—stop it,” Aziraphale said, because Crowley had opened his mouth to protest. “I need to get this out. You know...” He rubbed at his face—pulled his hands back away from his eyes to regard Crowley. “How afraid I was. How afraid I still am, sometimes.” He paused, hesitating, then. “Do you know that?”

Crowley took off his sunglasses, and… his expression was very tender. “I assumed. I am too, sometimes. I think it’s understandable.”

“And you know I can be cruel.”

Crowley didn’t reply.

“And I don’t want you to like that because it’s unangelic.”

“I promise you that I mostly don’t.”

Aziraphale shook his head. “You know you matter more to me than… well, probably anything.”

Crowley cringed, pulling his shoulders up. “This is so much sharing.”

Aziraphale almost laughed. “It’s difficult, isn’t it? Not our usual.”

“No,” Crowley said. “But… I don’t know… did it help?” His gaze was even, almost unnervingly steady. But, Aziraphale was so used to that. He loved that. It was grounding—being able to look into his eyes.

He did feel better. “I know God Knew me. Sorry, I won’t linger on that, dear. But, you know, Heaven didn’t. And you do. I know that you do. But, I want… someone to…”

Crowley sighed heavily. “I can’t believe I’m participating in this. Love you? You want someone to love you, which—that’s obvious, so…” he waited on Aziraphale to finish the thought but Aziraphale couldn’t yet. 

He could feel his angelic nature shining with a brightness that could blind if it passed the edges of his corporation—could feel that his face was making an incredibly sentimental expression. He— “You’ve never really said the words out loud before.”

“Yeah. It’s weird. Neither have you—you don’t have to,” Crowley said quickly, appearing panicked. “What’s the rest of that thought, though, angel?”

“I want someone to love me. Not someone. You. Even as they know about the bad, ugly parts of me. And not just because they think those parts are… cool,” he managed. “I want you—to really get all that I am, and to still love me. Which is selfish,” he pointed out.

“I like when you’re selfish. And obviously I enjoy when you do unangelic things, angel, but it’s not just that. It’s just a small part of it. I—you do plenty of things I really don’t like. You have flaws that aren’t charming. But… they’re your flaws. And, you obviously matter to me very much. More than anyone or anything,” he said, in echo of Aziraphale. “But, I promise you I don’t forget they’re there or pretend they aren’t. I’ve known you for six thousand years, and while we’ve spent a lot of that in layers of denial and avoidance I think we still got to know each other pretty well, especially over the last century. And we’ll keep.. doing that.”

“Thank you,” Aziraphale whispered.

“I don’t feel the need to ask you the same question because you point mine out all the time.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading <3 I'm @various-things on tumblr. Comments make my day


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